


Skin Starvation

by Sharpandtothepoint



Category: Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Erotic Massage, Floyd that is questionable behavior and is very naughty., Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharpandtothepoint/pseuds/Sharpandtothepoint
Summary: Freedom and Self Love is in short supply.





	1. Chapter 1

Digger had enough.

Enough of Amanda Waller and her prison and her Suicide Squad.

Enough of the torture. The pain. The numbing loneliness that has plagued him for years now. 

The lack of affection, the lack of touch,  
Cuddling himself is just not working anymore.

Done mate.

So after a mission goes sideways as they often do and he is separated from the squad he makes his move.

Quickly going in a medical room and locking the door and pulling the blinds, Digger rummages through the drawers and cabinets.

Beauty. 

The little scalpel was daunting for its size,  
but so was his fate if he stayed with the Squad.

Rearranging the mirrors and with his scarf in his mouth too block the sounds and with much care are possible under the time limit he cut into the X Scar.

Ow.

He may have puked. Just a bit.

Staring at the bloody marble sized bomb rolling it in his fingers, contemplating his choices. Where to go...

The sound of Quinn's annoying laughter echoed down the hall to his ears.

He'd have to think about that later it seems like, time to get the fuck out.

Avoiding the squad (easy just go the opposite way of the screaming) and keeping out of sight of the guards he hurried to the darkest parts of the mountain base the squad had infiltrated and near destroyed, looking around for anyone and seeing only the thick trees and undergrowth he chucked the bomb, a boomerang and with great satisfaction watched them explode.

Heh fireworks for a free man.

Then he ran.

Gone like the wind.

 

It took some weeks of laying low to get out of the shit hole country that the squad had landed in but with the right planning and the right palms greased he had a new set of IDs.  
Alexander Clay from New Zealand as far as anyone knew.

Digger Harkness wasn't stupid opposite to what many in the Super Community thought (both good and bad).

He built a fucking spaceship and the first drones and a single man sized glider that was fast enough to out fly flashy pants.  
(Most times if the other Rogues distracted him anyway).

"Not that anyone remembered that,the cunts." he thought bitterly.

He knew he needed to change, he knew that he couldn't keep up the lifestyle he had, he had just turned 42 for fucksakes.

So he started small and changed his looks, let his hair grow out to its impossibly thick natural curls (he had to do a painful favour for enchantress to convince her to fix the premature bald spot he had since he was 19) grew a five o'clock shadow and with deep sadness buzzed his beloved sideburns then donned a pair of mirrored aviator sunnies ("They complimented his face shape" Sams voice whispers.) He traveled mostly never staying in one place longer than a week.

After traveling the Mediterranean for a month and then crossing the middle east quickly he traveled down the eastern coast of Africa then took a boat to Madagascar.

The open ocean was freeing, the warm salty air playfully blowing is hair about as a small smile graced his lips.

It was...peaceful. He had forgotten what it felt like.

Finding a lovely little inn and parking the motorcycle, he decided that he was safe enough here to go get what he had wanted for so long.

Full body massage.

After booking the appointment for the next day. He decided to go to bed, travelling all day was exhausting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why yes even the most stoic of men can fall in lust just you watch.

It was a surprisingly cool day in the small city in Madagascar, much to the locals and the of thousands of tourists delight.

Floyd didn't care.

Not that the world's deadliest sharpshooter cared for much these days.

"You're out Lawton, and I have one last job for you if you want the money." Her concrete like voice had demanded. She never asked.

Rude.

It put Zoe in Switzerland, in a all girls college with more than enough money for a eighteen year old to learn and have fun.

And more than enough for him to get away.

Finally free.

The city didn't look like what most people outside of Africa saw on a day to day basis. 

It was clean, people going about their business with more shades of brown and black than white and tan, the fluttering of brightly colored clothing adorned the bodies of the people as they moved.

Although the local markets were impressive, alive with their own rhythm that drew people together.

A hum that could beckon a traveler or local for a taste of the exotic.

He stood out, his pale skin with his sharp feachers. His black hair, cold steel gray eyes, his long deft fingers and strong hands.

Hands that never miss.

"The proud Lawton looks that set us apart from the rabble." His mother would hiss.

As Floyd strode through the market looking at nothing in particular his sharp eyes caught a familiar looking man ahead.

He paused, eyes narrowing at the sun kissed curly haired man, raking his memory.

Where had he seen him before?

Interested Floyd followed him at a distance.

 

Digger shivered with delight.

Full body massage mate.

He entered the building murmured to the receptionist about his appointment then sat down in a firm yet soft chair.  
Spying a up-to date news paper in English he picked it up and peacefully wasted time.

Floyd watched as the man entered a massage parlor waited 90 seconds then entered after him, scanning the room and sitting in a darkened corner he eyed the man reading a newspaper.

Why did he...

Oh.  
OH.

It was Harkness. Who was very much alive.

Floyd stared at him. 

He looked... healthy, but then no one looked healthy when on the squad, Diggers skin was dark tan, rather then the unhealthy pasty color he remembered, his sideburns were tasteful buzzed short and his hair was full, curly and longer then floyd had ever seen it but then most of the time digger wore a hat or kept it short so the curls were never seen.

It...framed Harkness's angular face rather well.

Speaking of frame his clothes were different, more stylish and form fitting a pair of aviator sunglasses hung from the button up slit in his shirt. 

Much better then the baggy...things he had been living in.

Huh... so he could dress himself. Nicely it would seem.

"Mr. Clay?"

Diggers head lifted and he smiled.

That... his... it lit up his face.

Floyd had never seen Harkness smile like that in all the years he had known him.

Watching his ex-squad mate walk by noting that the pants complimented his rather muscular ass nicely (why had he never noticed before?) Floyd Lawton was struck by an urge, something that he never thought he would feel in the 15 years that he knew that one gimmicked useless C-lister hack:

The horrific urge to seduce that fucking Australian.


End file.
